Today on January 1st, 2018, we were blessed with one of the most beautiful full moons I’ve ever seen. I ran out onto the dock of Log Boom Park in Kenmore, Washington to try and capture the glory of the moonrise and light.

Looking down the dock to the south. This is at the northern end of Lake Washington, which divides Seattle and the Eastside.

Phalacrocoracidae, commonly known as cormorants. There were also many ducks.

The gargantuan full moon soars over the horizon.

The color seemed unusual for this time of year, such a rich and buttery yellow-orange.

And once again, the roosting birds, who seemed completely unfazed by the frigid temperature.

Like this:

WOW. I was just coming home from the store and had to stop to take pictures of this gorgeous rising moon. I couldn’t quite get a steady shot, even balancing the camera on a fire hydrant, but you can see why I was in awe.

We aren’t due for another blood moon yet, but this looked more like one than some of the actual lunar eclipses we’ve had recently.

As I was taking photos, a woman walked by and asked if I’d seen the setting sun also. I hadn’t. She said that tonight it, too, was blood red. We wondered if it means something…

(Update: the news said this was caused by fires on the Olympic Peninsula.)

Yesterday, in the early morning hours of July 22nd, several explosions were heard in the area of 102nd and Main Street. Neighbors looked out their windows to find the historic Mercantile Building, which was being expanded into multistory apartments, engulfed in flames.

Morning traffic reports warned drivers that State Route 522 was shut down near Kaysner Way. Nearly 100 firefighters from Bothell and neighboring agencies including Kirkland, Northshore, Woodinville, and Redmond converged on a three-alarm fire that was being spread by wind.

If you know Bothell, Washington, you probably think of its quaint downtown core before you think of the bigger name stores further north and east. Rows of older buildings line Main Street for blocks with, for the most part, no separation between them. Banks, pubs, a clothing store, a furniture store, art galleries, antique shops, and various eateries create a small town feel despite massive new construction nearby.

Midday a trip down 522 showed warning signs that something was wrong.

Power and internet were knocked out in parts of downtown by the fire. Crews worked hard to restore service.

The fire continued to smolder. The stench of burning building blanketed the air. Note the crane at the left. More on that soon.

Today crowds gathered downtown to make sense of what had just happened. Bothell Public Works had an eductor truck on Main Street. These vehicles are like giant vacuums and are often used to clean out storm drains. There was a great deal of foam and debris to clean up and the Sammamish Slough is just down the hill.

I’d heard Alexa’s Cafe was damaged but am not sure. So far I haven’t heard the same about the Three Lions Pub immediately to the right. It was open and looked intact.

Looking east down the north side of Main Street.

Seeing this sale sign made me realize how hard some of these businesses are going to be fighting to stay alive. Some might be done for.

Approaching ground zero on the southwest corner of 102nd and Main. This is what’s left of the Kozy Corner Cafe and the poor trees around it.

This is (was) the Mercantile Building, recently rechristened The Mercantile as its interior was gutted and rebuilt to support the residential units on top of it. Most locals agree this is where the fire started and many suspect that it was arson although there have been no official reports to that effect yet. The bridge and senior center nearby are okay.

Fires are strange. Some things burn, others don’t. This particular tree actually looked less singed than others despite the intense heat right next to it.

The crane being used on The Mercantile project melted.

Bothell Fire still had a truck on scene.

Note the melted Honey Buckets.

Someone I was talking to said, “look at the bushes behind us.” Despite being across the street, the bushes were crispy, including the rhodie to the left.

Looking up Main to the east towards Sundance Energy, which I originally heard was destroyed, then heard was saved.

The driveway to the back of the Logsdon Building was closed. Lynn Logsdon, the dear woman who owns the building, was kind enough to fill me in on the conditions of some of the buildings around hers. Hers, despite being right across the street, was unscathed. I know that prayers often go out for the safety of this place.

From the west side, the First Lutheran Church with its beautiful cross appeared to be undamaged.

Walking around the block, I found a crowd gathered at Sundance Energy, which is temporarily operating out of a different location. Across the street is the Frontier building which sounds like is a loss. I was surprised to see the two propane tanks on the front of that trailer intact given some other damage farther north on the property.

From Sundance, which is uphill from 102nd, you could see the roof of the Mercantile Building.

The landscaping along Main was decimated and the Wells Fargo signs melted.

Note the damage to the trailer. I’m not sure what the charred pieces are in the background.

The Mercantile across the street.

The roof is just a mess. It’s obvious how hot the fire was.

The front of Sundance’s property looks like an ebony moonscape.

Nobody’s going to be using that picnic table or… barbeque (?) again.

Sundance will need community support to get back up and running. They are housed in older buildings that I’m amazed weren’t lost.

There appeared to be pry marks on the door, likely from the firefighters’ entry.

Sundance wisely had some literature about their services on a table. Note how the table is warped and pitted from the heat and embers.

The roof on this back building was damaged more than the others.

Wow. This recycling bin was a significant distance from Main Street. It could have been moved, but it seemed to be in its logical place next to the dumpster.

Zulu’s was one of the businesses damaged by the fire. Two other area businesses are donating their proceeds on July 25th and 27th to help them and the Kozy Corner. Some of us lookie loos decided to go in for a beverage and one woman bought jalapeno poppers for the group. Strangers might not normally talk to each other in this area, but today, we were family.

The Frontier building. Note the van from the disaster recovery company and the damage along the right roof line. We discussed how many under 30 might not know what that blue and white box is for other than recognizing it as something Dr. Who rides around in.

Everything is closed. Don’t even try. Police and security are maintaining an active presence on this stretch.

More charred remains from the front of Sundance Energy.

Bothell Public Works had multiple vehicles on scene and by all accounts did a knockout job during and after this event. It’s not just Public Safety who handles emergencies. Public Works is always close behind.

Looking out at Zulu’s deck with its awning still curiously intact.

Water damage inside Zulu’s.

Zulu’s had the best view of the Mercantile’s roof. There are hot spots to the right and left.

Upon closer examination, Zulu’s tent was pitted with holes from the fire.

The Mercantile’s roof looks like it was hit by a bomb.

Fried foliage, cooked crane.

The view to the west over the fence at Zulu’s.

A lot of businesses have had to air out their buildings.

One little pot of fake flowers was still standing behind Sundance as if in defiance of the fire.

People of all ages gathered to talk this through and see the smoke. We all probably went home smelling like it too.

Wells Fargo was damaged as well.

The first evidence that something was amiss at First Lutheran.

A closer view. But they’re coming back tomorrow.

Being a Public Safety-Public Works hybrid, I remain amazed at how quickly my cohorts can mobilize and organize at times like these.

Still working hard 38 hours after the place exploded. We literally have some of the best first responders on Planet Earth here.

Good job. Often passed by without a second thought, we are reminded of how important our fire hydrants are at times like these. Some have stood as sentinels for decades.

It’s just not something you see every day. Soon after, a couple of Bothell firefighters came walking up the street and we all gave them a hearty round of applause. I wish we could have done the same for the Public Works crews inside their sweepers and Vactors.

It’s therapeutic to meet people and compare notes. You can tell who the engineers are.

Per my education I instinctively listen for those who seem to know too much about the particulars. We don’t know that this was arson, but some arsonists like to return to the scene to gloat over their work or brag about their knowledge. There are different motivations for arson and various types of arsonists, but a small subset experience a high similar to sex from setting fires. I considered those deviants, the thrill seeker type, the revenge seekers, the wannabe heroes, and the profiteering types after being here.

I realized later I was in behavioral profiling mode, noting who was where and how they were feeling. All seemed like concerned locals or business owners. No one stood out.

Singed beauty.

One man pointed out that besides the obvious damage to Wells Fargo, the ATM had bubbled.

The remaining highest point of the Kozy Corner. Two women told me how they’d just moved their bridal store business out of the upstairs and some friends moved into that space.

It was surreal to see only the O in the open sign left and hanging down in front of a dangling TV.

More survivors.

Returning to the antiques store, which did have to be aired out, there was no trace of smoke inside. It was strangely normal compared to the carnage just outside.

The first booth I walked into had this Fire! Fire! book front and center. There’s some irony. The proprietor confirmed that the book was coincidentally in that spot before the fire started.

Now this is appropriate. How firefighters protect people and property.

These “open for business” banners were everywhere. Some businesses stayed open late because of the people roaming downtown to see the fire. I strongly suspect that Larry and Susie Ormbrek of Sign Up, Sign Co. are behind the speedy production and distribution of these banners.

Bothell is a well-loved place with a lot of supporters. Mills Music, by the way, survived. The clothing store space, Banner Bank, and another building adjacent to the Kozy Corner are said to have water damage even though they look okay from the outside. A wall of the Kozy Corner is tilted towards the clothing store as well.

It is truly amazing how much of Main Street was saved. Two or three blocks could have been lost had it not been for some epic teamwork. The damage is stunning as well, but it could have been exponentially worse. The fact that it was contained as well as it was is a testament to the training and caliber of our local fire departments.

Day of Support for Bothell’s Kozy Corner Cafe and Zulu’s Board Game CaféBeardslee Public House and Wildwood Spirits Co. would like to announcea Kozy Corner Café and Zulu’s Board Game Café Day of Support July 25 & 27.

All profits from Beardslee Public House on Monday, July 25 and all profits fromWildwood Spirits Co. on Wednesday, July 27 will be given to the owners of theKozy Corner Café and Zulu’s Board Game Café to help them rebuild.

Bothell has a long road back to normal but they’ll stay afloat. They always do, as a community and city, as this mural suggests. Whether all of the 20 or so businesses impacted by this fire do remains to be seen.

Like this:

On the way home tonight I was in awe of the dramatic clouds sailing across the domed canopy of the sky. Somehow the heavens felt bigger as I watched these gargantuan airships hover over the hurried traffic of earth.

Last night we had some astoundingly heavy rain spells. Before and after there were moments where the sun stabbed through the storm clouds in a brilliant contrast of light and dark. That weighty but thrilling electricity heralding a storm clung to the damp air.

At times the skies looked like portals to a land beyond. You can imagine yourself running through the clouds, keeping up a furious pace so you don’t fall through. But if you do, you know that you will fly.

The wind has been busy this week. This restless weather seems to be signaling some sort of shift, like some massive blessing is about to rage forth from the floodgates of heaven in measures we can scarcely comprehend.

What do you see when you look at the clouds? I see freedom. I see hope. I’m reminded that no matter how lofty our aspirations, God is infinitely greater. The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands said the Psalmist.

How often as we race about our lives do we fail to look up? The sky is above us all the time, swirling and churning in a perpetually changing display of magnificence. Yet sometimes I fail to look up. When I do lift my head, I am released from the moment’s worries and just want to feel the sun or rain or fog on my face to remind me I’m alive. Going about our daily routines to pay the bills, we become numb, jaded, laser-focused on ensuring our own survival instead of trusting that our Creator is in control.

In the beginning He created the heavens and the earth.

He said, “Let there be light” and there was light.

He saw that the light was good and He separated the light from the darkness.

He said, “Let there be a vault between the waters” and He called the vault sky.

It’s all far too deeply embedded in our souls, all too beautiful to be some random cosmic accident.

When you walk outside in the driving rain with your face turned towards the stars and your bare arms outstretched as wind envelops you and thunder pulsates, every cell in your being exults in the power, the genius, the deeper magic, as C.S. Lewis called it, of a Creator who knew exactly what He was doing.

Just across a shining sea from the Emerald City, up a meandering path through an enchanted forest, sits a castle.

Ages ago, an order of religious men built this castle to train their priests. It had a divine purpose. There they lived and worked.

Decades passed, and almost half a century later, its original purpose waning, a large governing council purchased the fortress and its surrounding land to give to the people for their enjoyment.

But as is the case with many kingdoms whose rulers write more checks than their subjects can cash, funds to maintain the grand old building were sparse.

The castle fell into disrepair. The people flocked to its large lawn and acres of woods and the local wild animals were grateful for the safe haven as much of the rest of their world was being torn apart by development. But inside the great walls, the elements were seeping in to slowly break the building down.

Rescue attempts were formulated and discussed. Councilors and merchants tried their hand at daring plans to salvage the most iconic piece of architecture in the area. But the people could not agree on whether their money should be spent trying to save this landmark or if they should allow the merchants into the enchanted forest to ply their trade.

Here we are. And there she stands, unsteady but proud, water damaged but determined to survive, waiting patiently for a savior.

Ten years ago, I finally gained access to the building during an emergency exercise. As a medical team leader in an earthquake drill similar to the one occurring right now, Cascadia Rising, I was triaging “patients” as all the faults of the building started jumping out me. “Get those people away from the window,” I remember saying, because in a strong earthquake the vintage glass would rain down on the victims.

But there was more. The obvious water issues. The bits and pieces coming loose. The suspicious old pipes beside and above. Strange spots on the ceiling. Peeling paint and creepy radiators. A general state of disrepair despite the resident park rangers doing everything they could with what they had. Most of the building was and still is off limits. They don’t give tours. They say it’s for safety reasons. I like to believe they have a dragon living in the basement.

The castle of which I speak is the St. Edward Seminary in Kenmore, Washington. High on a hill above Lake Washington in the middle of a 300 plus-acre state park, it is one of the most historically significant buildings in the area. Kenmore doesn’t have a lot of notable historic buildings and in an era where quaint old homes with spacious yards are being razed to accommodate soulless oversized boxes, the park is a much-needed refuge.

Throughout the park are trails of varying degrees of difficulty. There are ball fields. There’s an amazing playground and a grotto where weddings are held. It has medieval-looking stone benches and a sort of combination pizza oven/sacred altar. When my cousin’s boyfriend proposed to her there, she started screaming in glee, and two men came running through the woods to rescue her.

Weddings are held there and in the seminary. The city holds summer concerts on the expansive lawn. Cultural and community groups gather for celebrations. Generations of families have played in the park. At night bats and birds, eagles and deer, raccoons and squirrels go to sleep amongst the trees after the humans have left.

Washington State Parks, the state agency the land and building belong to, has been up front that there are no public funds to save the seminary. In a series of public meetings, they’ve solicited community input as to whether private investors should be involved or the building mothballed or torn down. They’ve cited the millions of dollars it would take to restore and retrofit the building. A wall could be left up as a monument, they’ve said, but to remove this iconic piece of architecture would be to rip out the heart and soul of the park.

Citizens have many passionate opinions on whether to save the St. Edward Seminary. A few show up at public meetings with their torches and pitchforks to disrupt, to criticize the government, to be heard, to pontificate. The ever-vigilant Kenmore police chief Cliff Sether has had to intervene at least once at community meetings. But most local residents respectfully voice their legitimate concerns about how a building of this size and age can be best handled in one of the last best wooded pieces of the sprawling Seattle suburbs.

It’s crystal clear that the building cannot be saved without private intervention. McMenamins tried. There was some sort of tech company that got involved. St. Edward’s next door neighbor Bastyr University had an interest for a time. Citizens have brainstormed ideas on how to raise enough money to save the building but keep it in the public’s hands. So far the only idea that sounds halfway logical belongs to Kevin Daniels.

Who’s Kevin Daniels? If you’ve heard of Starbucks Center, Merrill Place, Union Station, or the Frye Art Museum, you know Kevin Daniels. Kevin is a soft-spoken real estate guru who has a genuine passion for preserving historic buildings. A couple of his projects have been so ambitious that given the requirements and regulations involved you might look at him and say, “dude, you’re crazy.” But Daniels and his team have plans for St. Edward, and while it’s not the absolutely ideal use of the building, right now it’s the only practical way to save it.

Someone asked Daniels recently why he’d want to buy a shuttered Depression-era concrete building with quirks like internal gutters and he offered several solid answers. Most notably, he was married on the grounds. The seminary is exactly the kind of the project that he dives into and wrestles through until every detail is resolved to his (and the government’s) satisfaction. He has faced rampant rumors and open disrespect but remains willing to attend community meetings to address concerns from all sides.

Specifically, Daniels wants to turn the seminary building into a lodge-style hotel and restaurant. The restaurant would be accessible to the general public, and for us public utilities aficionados, yes, he plans to voluntarily install an appropriate grease interceptor to help protect the grounds. This would make the seminary the gathering place it was intended to be when Washington State Parks purchased it all in 1976. The hotel would have its own parking and there would be a cooperative effort to ensure that parks visitors stay in their allotted parking and vice versa.

Citizens have expressed concerns about the increase in visitors to the park and the possibility of drunk people stumbling around where their children play. There are traffic concerns. There will be environmental impacts. There are questions as to how many dump trucks full of debris will be headed down Juanita Drive through Kirkland since Kenmore’s bridges across the Sammamish Slough in the other direction need millions of dollars of help themselves. Kudos to Mayor Dave Baker for his work on the bridge upgrades, by the way. Trump can make a deal? Ha. Baker can.

Daniels assures people that all of this is being studied and they will have numbers to present to the public. The public has also been assured that events can still be held on the grand lawn, like concerts and the Skandia Midsommarfest. While it’s possible there could be a few drunk rowdy people, that’s what law enforcement is for, whether that winds up being the park rangers on the premises or the local police. Leasing out the seminary as a hotel is a leap of faith as far as a business venture, but it is going to allow the building to become a public gathering spot, and you bet park goers will stop for a drink or a bite. Daniels also plans to acquire the 10 acres at the northwest corner of the park that everyone trespasses on now. It will become park land, saving it from becoming more soulless boxes with no yards.

My family has Finn Hill roots– Finn Hill being the name of the 400-foot high half-Kirkland, half-Kenmore mini-mountain St. Edward sits on– and if someone randomly asked me what I thought about making the seminary building a hotel, I’d scoff. As a conservative highly protective of plants and animals, my knee jerk reaction might be, “that’s crazy.” Even after learning of Daniels’ plan, I had my reservations. A hotel in the middle of a state park? Would that just invite trash and bad behavior and elitist out of towners who freak out when they see the woodland creatures many of us are used to?

Then I learned Chris Moore approved of the Daniels Real Estate plan. He and his team have been handing out orange “Save Our Seminary” t-shirts, a great way to raise awareness. That was the tipping point for me. Moore, Executive Director of the Washington Trust for Historic Preservation, is the guy you must know if you care at all about historic buildings in our state.

Moore is the expert I email any time I hear of an issue with an old building because he inevitably is willing to talk to the owner or knows somebody who can facilitate a discussion about how to circle the wagons to save it. Somebody wants to tear down a theater in Everett? Somebody’s renovating the Kirkland Cannery? What’s going on with that historic house the developer might tear down? He has his finger on the pulse of the historic preservation in our region and really knows his business. So for him to have combed through the details of Daniels’ seminary plans and come out with a very public “yes” was exactly what I needed to know.

The government doesn’t have enough of our money to make this happen and has many other matters to attend to right now, namely making our crumbling public infrastructure a priority. My gut tells me the Daniels plan to turn Kenmore’s castle into a hotel and restaurant is its last chance. Is there any other money on the table? Is there another developer out there with this kind of vision? Is there someone else as tolerant and patient as Daniels willing to be put through the wringer for crimes he never committed?

A discussion of the seminary is not complete without addressing some of the feelings community members have about the Catholic church’s victimization of children. It has been discovered that a group of priests who came out of that seminary were responsible for child molestation. They were– and perhaps still are– shameless predators who need to be held fully accountable for the violation of innocents. A few people see the seminary as a monument to pedophilia and believe it should be torn down. Some believe a high degree of penance is in order.

But Washington State Parks is not responsible for that. The City of Kenmore is not responsible for that. Daniels Real Estate is not responsible for that. The St. Edward Seminary is being given a fresh start. It has an opportunity to be reborn. It is being reinvented and repurposed. This is a victory over whatever darkness came out of it before. This is also a prime opportunity for the Archdiocese of Seattle to specifically address what happened and detail what’s being done to bless the survivors. Windows long closed will open. Doors propped shut decades ago can be torn down. It’s time for walls, both literal and metaphorical, to be demolished so that the light can get back in.

Ultimately, this hasn’t been a seminary for a long time and any negative history should not stop revitalization attempts. It should instead encourage them. I understand why people feel so strongly about this, but if what was once used as a curse can be forged into a blessing, let’s seize that opportunity. With proper law enforcement and community cooperation, this building can become a happy place. Besides its recreational use, we never know, in an age of power grid hacking, possible EMPs, and lurking war, what purpose that building might serve in an emergency. I suspect it has a greater importance. In time we will know.

It’s taken 40 years for the right leadership and money to come along to morph this brick beauty into the people-friendly place State Parks intended it to be. While I don’t know if the local clergy would bless a place where alcohol is served, why not invite priests and pastors from local churches to bless the reborn building? This could be done during a grand opening celebration to which the whole community is invited. A grand opening celebration could also be an opportunity to raise funds for survivors or to collect goods or donations for local charities.

If this plan goes sideways, I would likely be among its first critics. I am fiercely protective of local wildlife and yes, staunch conservatives can also be tree huggers. As a coworker of mine pointed out, knowing how I feel about the local environment and how we’re driving the wild animals out, it says something that I can live with this plan. Increasingly locals are complaining about how many small furry mammals there are outside or how inconvenient trees are (they cause yard work). I wonder why they don’t go live in a flat lifeless desert if the Pacific Northwest’s natural environment causes them so much angst. The trees and animals were here first. Some of us Puget Sounders like it that way.

Again, I wish State Parks could make that building into an amazing conference center or something more public, but they can’t, so Daniels seems to have the next best solution. To save Kenmore’s castle, there has to be some give and take. No one’s going to get everything they want. Kevin Daniels has been very open and very fair, plus he’s already chalked up some major successes with similar projects. If you have questions, ask him. If you feel that city council members need to provide facts or figures, email them. If you know of a way to help, speak up. This process and all information must be transparent. With a project this controversial, there is no room for secrets. There can be no surprises.

Once upon a time, a derelict castle on a hill was given new life. The demons of the past were purged. The yellowed tapestries were replaced with new works of art. Its walls were braced, its roof reinforced, its deep places dried out. Leaders dreamed of tomorrow over their meals. Locals and guests strolled in and out, finding a new unity in a central gathering place. Conversations and ideas were born. Coalitions formed to ensure proper protection of the non-human residents on the grounds and that extended into cooperative efforts deeper in the community.

Can you see it?

With a little cooperation, diplomacy, and transparency, the castle can be given a new song.

Thank you to Daniels Real Estate, the Kenmore City Council, Washington State Parks, Friends of St. Edward’s, The Washington Trust for Historic Preservation, and various community groups for their work to find a mutually beneficial solution.

It’s been more than two years since this horrific disaster during which the local community demonstrated a powerful loyalty to their neighbors. The cries of Oso Strong and 530 Strong rang for months as they worked alongside rescue and recovery crews. The Oso Community Chapel, among many other entities, rallied to aid survivors and to help everyone involved process the loss.

It was time to pay my respects. I’d been within a few miles of the slide the week after it happened. There have been plenty of pictures of it. But I needed to see it for myself.

The drive from the town of Arlington seemed to take forever. Approaching the site were numerous red-lettered signs warning people not to park on the shoulders or make any u-turns for two miles. 530 is a two lane, rural highway with freeway speeds. But I was unsure where it was legal to stop so drove up to this spot first and turned around.

Driving back west, I saw a turnout on what used to be Steelhead Drive. It was clearly a memorial for the victims, so noting the absence of no parking signs at this particular point, I stopped for a couple of minutes. This is what I saw.

That used to be a neighborhood. This was a somber sight.

The site is secured by a gate that contains messages of remembrance and hope. I did not get a clear shot of it but someone did a beautiful job of making these wooden signs.

People left mementos. Again, the picture is fuzzy, but the sign in the center of these lovingly placed items says, “believe.”

This is still Steelhead Drive.

The magnitude of this sorrow made for a heavy atmosphere.

There are several rows of decorated young trees to the right of the gate. I’m assuming there’s one for each person who lost their life but I didn’t count.

Across the road another American flag flies proudly.

A couple of more shots while leaving the site. This is such a severe scar on a beautiful area.

Another symbol of unity and pride.

Stopping by the Oso Community Chapel on the way back, I was delighted by its cheery newer paint job.

Signs of community pride are literally everywhere, including on the church’s bulletin board.

The fire department looks quiet now. This was a hive of activity in the Spring of 2014, with vehicles spilling out of the parking lot as well as up and down the highway.

There are still yellow ribbons, flowers, and wreaths for miles, in people’s yards, around road signs, and here outside the fire department.

Statements of strength aren’t difficult to find along this stretch.

This sign captured what I felt best. These people and the first responders and volunteers involved were a formidable force. They mobilized quickly and what they accomplished was flat out heroic. But many are still fighting their way back psychologically, financially, and otherwise. The photos I show here are the sanitized, time-tempered version of the muddy hell that they were working in for so long.

Please keep the Highway 530 community in your hearts as they continue to heal. And thank you to the many people who gave so generously of their time and talents to help this community. I know that some of you are among them.